


in a field of stars

by Nacht



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Declarations Of Love, First Time, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:05:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5725663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nacht/pseuds/Nacht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even with the entirety of the heavens spread out before him, Fingon would still rather stare at Maedhros.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in a field of stars

**Author's Note:**

> Remember when everyone was young and in love and living in paradise? Yeah, me neither, but it could have been like that, in a more idealistic universe!
> 
> I'd love to hear any and all feedback you care to give for this. It ran on much longer than I expected it to, but it was fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it.

He did his best to stare at the stars alone. It was a rare sight to see them in such great detail and arrayed in such multitudes. He was far more familiar with their fainter counterparts as he so often viewed them from the heart of Tirion. Here, in the mountainous depths of the uninhabited regions, there was nothing for them to compete with, not even the silver light of Telperion.

It should have been more than enough to hold his attention, but it seemed as though the more Fingon attempted to concentrate the more he struggled.

He snuck another glance at Maedhros.

Maedhros was beautiful, sitting with his hands and elbows buried in the grass, and his face upturned towards the heavens. His eyes shone like refracting diamonds, and his hair was stained the color of dark wine. Fingon shifted closer to him, into the shadow he cast at his side, no longer caring enough to fein interest in other views.

His shoulder brushed Maedhros’ arm.

Maedhros turned to him and raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Fingon answered him with what he hoped was a winsome enough smile. “I find myself somewhat chilled, cousin.”

“I see,” Maedhros said as Fingon nudged his arm a second time, and then his expression smoothed from confusion into amusement, for it was a warm night in the middle of summer, and the air was pleasant and still around them. He almost grinned when he returned Fingon’s smile and wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

He pulled Fingon closer to his chest until Fingon’s cheek was cradled against his collarbone.

Fingon breathed out a sigh of contentment. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad I was here to save your delicate constitution,” Maedhros said, continuing to smile with suppressed mirth. His fingers twined around one of Fingon’s long braids, twisting it around his palm and picking at the gold ribbon woven into it.

“You may tease me, and I shall not stop you.” Fingon laughed. “For you have gifted me with my desire.”

Maedhros stared down at him.

Fingon could feel the rise and fall of his chest now, pressed against his side. His hand seemed to be doing its best to memorize the individual strands of Fingon’s hair, and Fingon thrilled at the focus apparent in his touch.

Maedhros cleared his throat and asked after a noticeable pause, “This was your desire? Just this?”

The small distance between them shrank further as Maedhros leaned in against his ear. Fingon hesitated, but in the end he could not help but place his hand over Maedhros’ ribs in a searing touch, a scant handspan above his waist. Maedhros’ throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Fingon bit his lip.

“No,” he said, stretching the word out in hesitation. “There are other desires in my heart.” His voice shook, and he swallowed to steady it. “Though perhaps it would be better to name them dreams, for that is how they often seem to me even in waking hours.”

“My heart knows those dreams as well, I believe,” Maedhros confessed. 

There was a nervous strength in his grip when he tugged on Fingon’s braid, pulling it in a solid line from his scalp so that it did not hurt but instead sent ripples of pleasure tingling out across his skin. Fingon sucked in a shadow of a gasp, and Maedhros breathed out a quiet sigh that ghosted over the pointed tip of his ear.

Shivers raced down his spine.

Fingon turned his head so that their lips were mere inches apart.

Maedhros did not pull back.

“If this is not as you dreamed, my most dear Russandol, you must tell me,” Fingon said, and then, before he could think enough to second guess himself, he closed the sliver of distance that remained between them, and he kissed Maedhros full on the mouth.

His lips were firm and soft, thin and masculine in design but curved up at their corners in a natural smile. Fingon’s own covered them with ease, caressing them and feeling warmth and desire flare up at the gentle pressure. Maedhros stilled all over and then flared back to life, his hand rising to cup Fingon’s cheek even as it remained tangled in his hair.

He kissed back, and Fingon was lost.

Their bodies strove against one another, meeting and melding almost together.

Fingon sighed through his nose. His fingers squeezed Maedhros’ side, and he caught his thumb rubbing insistent circles into the fabric of Maedhros’ tunic. He did not stop. He wanted rather to topple them both backwards into the grass.

Maedhros’ mouth opened.

It seemed unreal in that moment that Fingon should be rewarded in such haste with so much of what he wanted. He didn’t think it could be possible that he could get all of this all at once.

Maedhros’ tongue darted out, and he laved the line Fingon’s lips.

Fingon shook under his ministrations. His happiness was so overwhelming then that it was almost enough to give him pause, and shreds of disbelief welled up inside him even as his eyes slipped closed.

He parted his lips, and their tongues met.

He moaned outright.

Maedhros echoed him, and that was enough for Fingon’s other thoughts to grind to a halt in an instant.

He realized, with a sudden, singular focus, that he would do absolutely anything to ensure Maedhros made that sound again. His fingers curled tighter on Maedhros’ ribs, and he pushed himself forward half onto his lap, chasing his tongue into Maedhros’ mouth and flicking his own against the tip.

Maedhros tried to catch his breath through his nose, but Fingon could feel him panting. His chest fluttered in a series of stuttering breaths, and Fingon smiled against his mouth.

He slipped his hand lower, sliding down to palm the junction of Maedhros’ hip.

Maedhros moaned, and Fingon reveled.

Their tongues flowed back and forth between their mouths as each of them clutched the other, movements growing uncontrolled as arousal built and longing set in. Fingon ached, his cock rising and growing stiff under his tunic and leggings.

He brushed his hand from across Maedhros’ hip to his groin and felt the answering need there, hard and obvious.

It drove him wild.

He broke their kiss with one last peck, fast and shallow, and asked, “Was that like to one of your dreams?” He grinned, lips stretching wide over his teeth. “I confess you’ve given me some new ones.”

He felt invincible, no longer nervous. He stared with open lust at the stain of color across Maedhros’ freckled cheeks, at the strands of hair that framed his face under the brilliant light of the stars, loose and beginning to tangle.

Maedhros stared back.

His eyes were glowing with silver fire, and his hand was firm against Fingon’s face even as he blushed. He did not seem to care about his visible embarrassment, instead drinking in the angles of Fingon’s features with the intense drive of a scholar and a genius.

“My dreams were not as this is,” Maedhros murmured. “This is so much more.”

He drew in a shuddering breath and took Fingon’s thick lower lip between his teeth. He worried it and then bit with a slow intensity that caused saliva to well up under Fingon’s tongue.

He cried out.

He panted, ragged and desperate, and found himself begging, “Again, please, Russandol.”

Maedhros threw him a smile of pure relief. 

Fingon’s eyelashes fluttered as Maedhros dragged his thumb over the line of his jaw and then lunged for him seconds later. He bit Fingon’s lip harder this time, making him cry out again in agonizing pleasure.

It rolled over him in a great wave, like the incoming tide, crashing through him and consuming him

He did not know how he survived it.

It left him aching more than ever.

“I must have you, Russ,” Fingon said, still begging, threads of need interwoven into his voice as he spoke against Maedhros’ lips. “Please tell me that I am allowed to.”

Maedhros kissed the corner of his lips and then his cheek, his jaw, down the line of his neck to his throat.

“Ai, Finno, of course.” He breathed, making Fingon shudder. “I have belonged to you for many years now in my heart.” His teeth brushed Fingon’s skin in a smile as he paused before adding, “Too many years, perhaps.”

“Never,” Fingon denied with breathless laughter.

He pulled back and climbed into Maedhros’ lap, his braids swinging out behind him as he moved, knees ending up buried in the grass at either side of Maedhros’ hips. Maedhros’ nose bumped Fingon’s chin as he looked up, their eyes meeting, but then Maedhros settled his arms low around Fingon’s back, just above the uppermost curve of his ass, and held him up, containing him against the rest of the world.

Fingon bit his lip, flushed with expectation and excitement.

Maedhros’ eyes glittered.

Fingon stared at him and said, his words pouring forth in utter abandon, “I have belonged to you from the very second of my birth, or so it feels to me. That you have felt the same for any length of time could only thrill me.”

It was a defense and declaration, and Fingon blushed to speak it, but his courage did not leave him.

He rolled his hips down onto Maedhros’ lap, and Maedhros’ hands slipped further down. He gripped Fingon’s ass through his trousers, kneading his flesh, and Fingon did his best to stifle the shout that rose up in his throat in response.

Maedhros squeezed him, shaking his head. “Give me your cries,” he said. “Give me your voice as you have given me the rest of you. Do you have any idea how your words incite me?”

He almost choked as he finished speaking, and Fingon felt more warmth spread itself across his skin as his heart rose in his chest at hearing such exaggerated emotions overcome Maedhros’ undauntable strength.

He clasped his hands on Maedhros’ tunic and kissed him.

Maedhros sighed into his mouth, and the two of them opened their mouths to each other, sharing the heat between their lips.

Fingon could feel the shapely muscles of Maedhros’ chest through the fabric clenched in his fingers, could feel his heart beating just as fast and hard as Fingon’s own, echoing in his ears as blood rushed through his veins. His excitement mounted until he thought he might shake himself to pieces. He lifted his hips, grinding down into Maedhros’ lap even as Maedhros thrust up to meet him.

Maedhros lied back against the grass then, dragging Fingon with him.

Their kiss never broke.

Maedhros massaged his ass, pulling him up with every movement of Fingon’s hips, ramping up speed of their rhythm and increasing its depth. Fingon’s thoughts tore in all directions, spreading out into endless patterns of love and adoration. He struggled to catalogue them, to contain them. He wanted to remember all of them so that he might share them with Maedhros, but too many were lost before he even recognized their intentions, starbursts of feelings only partially formed.

He carded one of his hands into Maedhros’ hair. It was soft and fine against his fingers, and it slipped through them like water through a sieve.

Fingon had always admired his hair. It was bright like copper and as wild as fire itself, and it was unique to Maedhros and Maedhros alone.

Fingon adored it.

His hand spread down his hair to the base of his neck, cupping his nape so that the backs of his knuckles tickled the grass below them. Fingon thumbed the lobe of Maedhros’ ear, and then traced up the helix to its delicate point.

Maedhros gasped.

Fingon grinned against his mouth and tugged his ear with a fraction more strength.

“Finno,” Maedhros said, slurring his name against Fingon’s lips on the end of a trailing moan which filled him up with elation, cutting him to his very core.

Maedhros was on the brink of coming undone, and it was Fingon’s accomplishment alone that brought him there.

His hips stuttered in their rhythm as his grin stretched wider against their kiss, and he surrendered himself with passion to Maedhros’ hands on him. Maedhros bounced Fingon in his lap, lifting and maneuvering him with ease, driving them both into a faster pace as Fingon continued to twist his ear.

Their tongues danced. 

Fingon himself cried out after a while, and Maedhros pulled back to stare at his flushed face and desperate eyes.

Fingon shuddered.

He could not bring himself to still his hips, but he was so close. He bit the inside of his mouth, shaking his head even as he shook all over.

“I’m so hard for you,” he said, gasping out the words. “I’m going to come.”

Maedhros kissed his temples and held him hard against him, unmoving, their groins pressed together.

Fingon gasped again.

“Control yourself a mite longer for me,” Maedhros ordered.

His hands left Fingon’s ass and rose to the buttons at his collar. He undid them with an impolite haste, but Fingon would not have cared even if he’d torn them off.

He made even shorter work of Fingon’s belt, and Fingon lifted his arms so that Maedhros could draw his tunic over his head and cast it off.

He did not see where it landed, for Maedhros grabbed him in nearly the same motion and flipped him over.

Fingon sucked in a sharp breath as his back hit the grass.

Maedhros loomed over him, his hair spilling over his shoulders and his thin lips swollen with the lingering evidence of Fingon’s kisses. The light of the stars haloed around him, and Fingon sighed, feeling struck down by the sight.

“Maitimo,” he said breathlessly.

Maedhros blushed and ducked his head, sliding down to the fastenings of Fingon’s trousers.

Fingon thought it was almost improper to see himself so doted upon by his eldest cousin, but at the same time it gave rise to a secret thrill inside of him, and he did not protest when Maedhros pulled the fabric down around his knees.

His cock sprang forth, so achingly hard it bounced against his tensed stomach.

Maedhros licked his lips.

Fingon’s soft boots were tugged from his feet, and his trousers were pulled off at his ankles.

Then Maedhros’ hands rose to his own belt, and Fingon saw that he shook as he unbuckled it.

He could not tear his gaze away.

He longed to touch himself, but he held off, waiting for what he knew was promised to him.

Maedhros stripped himself of all of his garments, and he stood naked before Fingon.

Fingon reached up for him.

His knees hit the ground in the shadow of Fingon’s hips. He breathed several times, Fingon gazing upon the rise and fall of his chest, and then arranged himself above him so that their cocks brushed one another, skin to skin, for the first time.

It was as close to dying as Fingon could imagine.

Hot pleasure exploded over him, the mental and the physical drawing together, blending into something all encompassing, more powerful than the world itself. He wrapped his legs around Maedhros’ hips and clawed at his back with his hands.

Maedhros cried out against him.

The two of them rocked together, no rhythm save what nature gave them by instinct.

Fingon’s earlier disbelief rose again, stronger this time, for there was no greater moment in all his life than this, and he did not feel worthy of it. He could not, for it was happiness unparalleled and long sought for, and before this he’d been brought almost to the point of despair, never realizing how close he was to his dreams becoming reality.

His voice strained to match Maedhros’ as he himself cried, and joyous tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, turning the world soft when his eyelashes fluttered and he peeked between them.

Maedhros cradled him, and he whispered broken words against Fingon’s ear as his fingers circled his nipples.

Their cocks were slick now with clear liquid, the precursor of their release.

They could not last much longer.

“I love you,” Fingon said, forcing the words from his mouth, knowing that he would never again have the courage he did in that moment, consumed by joy as he was.

Maedhros moaned long and low. 

“I love you too,” he said. 

Fingon’s nails dug into the blades of Maedhros’ shoulders at that, and he was overtaken by anything wave of pleasure.

“I’m going to come. Ai, Russ, please,” he babbled, mouth opening and eyes closing as he struggled against his own climax. “Come with me, please, my love. My dearest.” 

He shuddered, and Maedhros’ cock twitched against his own.

He bit his tongue, and so his scream was muffled when he came, cock sluicing liquid across their stomachs.

Maedhros cried out himself, kissing Fingon’s neck beneath his ear, teeth grating against him, hips continuing to pump until he came as well, and his seed splashed out to join with Fingon’s on their liberally stained skin.

Fingon panted, smoothing his palms down Maedhros’ back and crushing the two of them together.

His legs were still hooked low around the tops of Maedhros’ thighs.

Maedhros collapsed onto his chest.

The last remainder of Fingon’s breath heaved out of him at that, but he merely laughed with elated amusement and tangled all of his fingers into Maedhros’ hair.

Maedhros hummed out an exhausted moan, unmoving.

The stars sung above them, shimmering with incandescence. By the angles of their constellations Fingon knew that the hour was late, that their chance to sleep was passing them by, but he cared not.

He flicked Maedhros’ hair over his ears, brushing it back from his face.

Maedhros turned.

His head was pillowed on Fingon’s shoulder, and his silver eyes still gleamed with brightly kindled white fire.

Fingon smiled down at him, and Maedhros’ lips twitched in return.

“You have unmade me,” he said.

Fingon tossed his head in amusement, and his braids tangled in grass behind him. “You hold my entire self in your hands now, my dearest Russandol. It matters not to me whether we ever marry in truth, for in spirit I am bound to you now forevermore.”

He knew the words were too much as he spoke them, too powerful, but still he allowed them to slip out from his lips, burning as they hung in the air between them.

“Finno.” Maedhros’ voice cracked.

Fingon tossed his head again, shaking it this time.

“Do you feel the same?” he asked, curious. 

He was warm and overwrought with happiness even now, his breathing shallow from both the weight of Maedhros’ head on his chest and from heady seriousness of his own devotion.

He said further, as Maedhros remained struck silent, “You must not feel obligated to return the strength of my feelings. I have spent many long years contemplating my love for you.”

At that, Maedhros rushed to say, “As have I with my love for you.”

Fingon’s heart stuttered, and his hands went still in Maedhros’ hair.

He licked his lips.

Maedhros placed his hand on Fingon’s waist and squeezed.

Fingon dared not to draw in a single breath.

“I will swear myself bound to you as well, marriage or no,” Maedhros continued, squeezing him tighter. “I would have it so that all of our actions are counted in each other’s names, as two become one, unto the ending of the world.”

Fingon’s eyes went wide.

He drew Maedhros into a kiss. It was fast and harsh, more passionate than all of the others they had shared together, and when it was finished he echoed, “Unto the ending of the world.”

Maedhros slid off his chest, onto his side, and Fingon followed him.

His heart was racing again, now from the mix of emotions that churned through his mind as he stared at Maedhros’ face, taking in the sheer beauty of his features and reeling from the strength of their shared love.

It was akin to walking off a cliff and caring not for the awaited fall.

He shuddered.

Maedhros danced his fingertips across Fingon’s collarbone and down the junction of his neck and shoulder, and Fingon pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and then his temple.

The stars wheeled above them.


End file.
